Scattershot
by LadyNightRunner
Summary: Roxas expected a lot when he moved into the loft over the coffee shop. But he didn't expect a childhood nightmare, an assignment in an entirely unfamiliar locale, or the mess of relationships. Even in a big city, it really can be a small world when you look at it through a camera.
1. Chapter 1

Hey! So this is where I've been all summer long...working on this monster. Welcome to the KingdomHearts BigBang challenge. The contender? Yours truly. The goal? 25k. I didn't quite make it, but there are some side stories coming soon that flesh it out and answer some questions.

In other news, I am now an official college graduate. I moved halfway across the state and got an job in my degree field. I live mostly alone with my budgie behind a cabinet in a relative's apartment, and I work 9-5 five days a week at a local nursery and greenhouse. Still writing...just taking a quick breather after the bigbang entry.

* * *

7th floor. It hadn't occurred to Roxas that there wouldn't be an elevator up to the place, but as it turned out, the freight elevator in the stairwell was for moving in and emergencies only unless you were in one of the businesses on the first three floors. Just heading up to check the place out and figure out where his things went wasn't a qualifying need. That meant stairs. Lots of stairs. He stood in the stairwell and looked up, all the way up to the ceiling, where he was heading. His legs hurt already.

One hundred and twenty stairs. Twelve sets of them, two sets to a floor. Roxas wanted to collapse at the upper landing when he finally arrived. The first three floors hadn't been bad, which was a blessing, since those first thirty steps had been crawling with patrons of the bakery, coffee shop, and hobby store on those floors. Right around the middle of the fourth floor, his legs started to hurt. By the end of the fifth floor, they burned. When he reached the final landing at the 7th floor, his legs were shaking and sore, and he wondered if the landlord was a sadist or just didn't like college students.

The double doors were bright, grab-you-by-the-eyeballs PURPLE and had the apartment number hanging on them in silver letters. Roxas prayed he had the number wrong as he tried his key in the lock. It fit and turned. He swore silently and pushed the door open.

Inside was one massive room. Roxas had been prepared for a wide-open space the moment he'd seen the word 'loft' in the ad, but this…it extended much further than he'd expected, high ceilinged and enormous. It smelled it paint and something earthy, and it was uncomfortably warm.

"Hey! Don't hold the door open, you're letting the heat in!"

He scooted inside and let the door shut behind him, looking for the source of the voice. It was vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure where he'd heard it.

"So you're my new…room…mate. What the _hell_? _Roxas_?"

Roxas looked up sharply. For a split second, he saw a fourteen year old boy standing in front of him, all too-big feet in blue Converse and a short, scruffy mess of silvery white hair. Then he blinked, shaking himself, and found himself staring at a man in his early twenties, relatively tall, broad shouldered and sporting some impressive muscling in his arms. Thick white hair hung around his face, barely restrained by a bandana being used as a headband. His eyes were wide with surprise and a distinctive shade of bright blue-green.

"_Riku_?"

"It _is_ you!" Riku moved closer, then shook his head and stepped back. "No. You can't stay here. Out. Now."

"_Out_? I've paid my deposit. I'm living here."

"I don't care. I'm not living with you. Not after what happened the last time. Get. Out."

"Last time? You started it!"

"I didn't start a fist fight," Riku hissed. His hands balled into fists, making muscle in his arm stand out with tension and reminding Roxas that he was significantly shorter and weaker than Riku.

But the last time they had seen each other he'd been eleven and Riku had been lying on the ground, clutching his face and sobbing around the blood gushing from his nose and mouth, and Sora had been behind him, crying in fear and betrayal, and it had been all. Riku's. Fault.

"Yes, you did."

"Oh, bullshit, you just want to justify trying to beat me to death to make yourself feel better." Riku sniffed derisively at Roxas. "How's Sora?"

"None of your business."

"Not talking to you?"

"Fuck off."

"He stopped writing to me."

"Yeah? He moved on. Unlike _some_ people."

"Some of us actually liked having friends, sunshine," Riku muttered. He turned away. "Whatever. Move your crap in if you must. I don't care. Just don't touch my stuff."

Roxas wasn't sure if he was hearing a change of heart or if Riku just didn't want to get into an argument with management, but he was grateful to not have to look for another apartment. Not now, so close to the semester starting.

"Where's my room?"

Riku stopped, looking back at Roxas over his shoulder. "Who said you got a _room_?"

"I'm sharing this place with you as a roommate, not a crash buddy," Roxas snapped. "I get a bedroom."

"Did they tell you that, at the office?"

"No, but-"

"This _is_ the apartment." Riku spread his arms, indicating the entire massive room. "One big bathroom, back that way. A massive walk-in closet for two. A corner with all the kitchen stuff and some counters. And an empty space. It's a loft. What did you expect?"

Roxas stared at him, then around the room. It looked like Riku wasn't kidding: there were two doors down the wall from the one he'd walked in through, and they were too close together to belong to a real bedroom of any kind. Behind Riku, the place opened up a little more. Kitchen corner, as promised, with a large fridge and a sink with a stack of coffee cups waiting to be washed beside it. A big wooden table with duct tape around one leg, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs. A lot of cheap metal bookshelves against the walls. A squashy couch-shaped thing under a tapestry-style throw. A wall of windows- that was the street side. In the corner opposite the kitchen, there were curtains hanging from a frame suspended from the ceiling, spreading open to reveal a messy bed. Must be where Riku slept.

"But…where am I supposed…to…?"

"Wherever you want, I guess. Move some furniture if you have to. You could get some help and drag a mattress up on top of the closet and bathroom- landlord says it can support plenty of weight." Riku nodded at the corner behind Roxas, across from the closet door. "That's as far away from my corner as you can get, if that's what you're after." He tossed his hair back over his shoulder with a sigh. "You can leave the door unlocked while you bring your stuff in, but don't leave it open- it takes forever to cool the place down after you lose the cold air."

Riku walked away to the curtained corner, leaving Roxas alone in his new home.

_Great deal for students my ASS_, Roxas thought, and stormed back out to the stairs and elevator, slamming the door behind him. He heard Riku holler about not slamming the door echoing down the stairs after him.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, it took Roxas three hours to get everything moved and put away. He'd managed to enlist the help of a guy who lived below them, a short, quiet, tidy man with a fall of slate colored hair and a very soothing voice. Wrestling a mattress and box spring into the elevator with another man under five foot seven was a real pain, but they managed, hauling as much as they could into the elevator and taking it up, then running back and forth moving everything into the apartment. It was a very hot, chaotic, and frustrating way to do it, made worse by Riku sitting near the windows at the other end of the loft with a sketchpad on his knee and a half-frozen waterbottle, ignoring them both.

When the truck was empty, Roxas drove it back to the rental place and got his bike out to head back. It was a slightly uphill ride with almost no shade. Life. Sucked.

Riku was waiting for him when he returned, holding a pair of popsicles in one hand and an unopened water bottle in the other. He offered both hands to Roxas.

"Pick a popsicle. They're good."

Roxas picked the orange one, then took the water, giving Riku a suspicious look. "What are these for?"

"Mostly making sure you don't collapse with heat stroke or something. It doesn't get very cool in here during the day, so popsicles and water are the fastest way to cool off after you've been outside in this godawful heat." Riku unwrapped his green popsicle and snapped a corner off it. "Take it or leave it."

Nothing to do but unwrap the damn thing and try it. It turned out to be eye-stingingly tart, like a fresh tangerine with a little of the peel left on, but it was good, not cloyingly sweet like so many others were. Roxas drained half the water bottle, then set to nursing the cold treat.

"Thanks."

"Mmhm. You met Zexion, I saw."

"Is that his name?"

"You didn't ask?"

"No?"

Riku sighed. "His name's Zexion Hatori. He's a grad student on campus. He lives one floor down with more books than some school libraries and doesn't get out much. But if you're having a problem with the landlord o something needs doing, you talk to him."

"Why? Is he related or something?"

Riku shook his head. "He's just really good with words, and with talking people into doing things. When he talks to the landlord, things get done a hell of a lot faster. Just pop a note under his door if he's not around and you're in a hurry."

"Oh. That's handy, I guess." Roxas nibbled at his popsicle, then looked up at Riku again. "How are we doing this?"

"How are we doing what?"

"This."

"WHICH this?"

"Living together."

"I suppose that depends on how much you still hate me."

"About as much as I did before I hit you."

"Roxas, you didn't just hit me. You tried to cave my entire face in." Riku sighed. "Whatever. I don't care. I like where I live, I agreed to have a roommate, and I don't care if I have to share with someone who doesn't like me so long as there are rules."

Roxas considered this. There had been no rules with their parents, just quiet complacency until someone overstepped, and then there was screaming and accusation and the listing of rules that had never existed. Living wit Cloud, there had been a few rules: don't drink, don't do drugs, be home by 2 in the morning and don't wake him up coming inside. Simple things. When they'd moved in with Tifa, there had been a lot more, about things like when the laundry should be done and who cleaned the bathroom when and why thy could only drink so many sodas in a week even if the only other things left were coffee and iced tea and caffeine was bad for them. Rules could be alright...

"What kind of rules?"

Riku shrugged. "About who's responsible for what, and how we're doing food and stuff, and personal space. I need some special ones for my work. Nothing fancy- I'm not gonna try and give you a curfew and say you can't do things. Just...rules to keep us from trying to kill each other?"

Roxas sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea. But can we talk about it after I'm unpacked?"

"Sure. That big cabinet over there is all yours- I use one for my clothes, so you might want to do the same. And you can use the shelves on this wall."

"Not the other ones?"

"The other ones are covered in clay and paint and varnish and things I really doubt you want your clothes and textbooks getting too close to. Like I said, special rules for my work stuff."

"Right. I'll let you know when I'm done."

They had a rule-making powwow over pizza- Riku was nowhere near as picky an eater as he had been when they were kids, which Roxas was thankful for- and a huge pad of paper they scribbled on with markers, crossing rules out, making notes and additions, and actually writing rules. Riku drew it all up neatly when it was finished, and he was smiling when he did.

Roxas decided that maybe he wasn't such a dick after all. Not someone he wanted to be buddy-buddy with, but not a bad guy. He could've done a lot worse for a roommate, and...if he was being honest, he knew why Riku had been the way he'd been when they were kids. He just didn't feel like being honest.


	3. Chapter 3

Morning turned out…unpleasant. Roxas couldn't call himself an early riser, but he didn't sleep late unless he was really tired or sick, so crawling out of bed at eight to find that Riku was still out and the loft was just dark enough to made walking across it difficult without the curtains open was not a good way to start things off. There had been no time for grocery shopping the day before- the nearest grocery store was three blocks down and two blocks over, though there was a small market nearby- so he didn't have many option for breakfast. Chewing listlessly on a slice of cold pizza, he shoved a juice box into his pocket, hauled his bike out the door, and proceeded to drag it down all six flights of stairs, pausing on landings to have a few more bites of his pizza. At the bottom, he chugged his juice, mounted up, and wobbled off at barely a crawl, comparing the sketchy map Riku had drawn out for him to the street he was on.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to get there, as Riku's north turned out to be west and Roxas pedaled merrily off in the wrong direction. He wound up asking for directions and made it to he grocery frustrated and muttering.

Shopping time. Riku had said his brother was going to take them to one of the big bulk stores that afternoon, to stock up on essentials, but for the most part, things like fresh fruit and milk had to be bought and taken home in small batches that could fit in the panniers and crate on his bicycle. Roxas had looked the stores up briefly before bed- his family never shopped in places like that- and checked a few sale flyers, so he ad an idea of what he did or didn't need to buy. It didn't keep him from being more than a little paranoid about everything that went into his basket, though; he'd never done real grocery shopping on his bike, and was convinced that he was going to forget something important.

He did forget something important: the crate that strapped to the little platform behind his bicycle seat. Roxas wound up going back inside and buying a cheap sling back bag from the rack beside one of the registers and carrying a few things home that way, digging into his spine and making his back ache.

No elevator on the way up. Muttering under his breath, he left the groceries in the panniers and hauled the whole bike back up the stairs, stopping to pant and curse his life on the landings.

Riku wasn't awake. Roxas threw the cold items into the fridge, took the empty notebook they had designated for shared shopping and a pen, and stormed back downstairs. One advantage to the otherwise horrible new living space was that residents got a discount in the coffee shop if they presented their key. There might be discounts at the other shops too, but all Roxas cared about was coffee.

The Grounds was quiet for that time of morning, but Roxas supposed that was because school wasn't in session yet. It would probably get a lot busier once there were more than just commuters and soccer moms rushing their kids to camp or whatever. There was a bit of a line, but nearly everyone went right back out when they got their drink, leaving Roxas to scope out a comfortable-looking corner while he waited.

"Caramel latte," he murmured when addressed by the barista. "And...um...a Danish, please. Oh, and I live upstairs." He dug his keys out of his pocket and held tem out.

"So you must be Riku's new roommate, huh?" The barista checked the key and grinned. "Yup. That's his number alright."

"I am. You know him?"

The barista shrugged, handing the keys back, and turned to the espresso machine. "He comes down here a lot. How do you know him?"

Roxas scowled. "He was a friend of my brother's when we were kids."

"Uh-huh. And not yours?"

"Hell no."

Laughing, the barista set the machine to whistling while he filled a pitcher with milk. "He seems to have that impression with a lot of people. Never figured out how he managed to pull it off. And I suppose you're not gonna tell me."

"It's personal."

"Fair enough. I'm Demyx, by the way. I work the morning shift down here, so if you're anything like Riku, I'll be seeing you a lot."

"Roxas. Does he actually make it for he morning shift?"

"Barely. I get out at eleven thirty, and he usually makes it in between eleven and then. On the good days I might even see him by ten thirty." Demyx chuckled over the scream of the steam wand, pausing to brush dark blonde hair out of his face with the back of his arm. "He's...well, he's interesting. Artists are supposed to be eccentric, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Pleased to have finally found someone to talk to who wasn't a nightmare from his childhood or a nearly silent bookworm he'd met on the stairs, Roxas moved around to the other side of the curved bar to watch Demyx finish making his drink. He was taller than Roxas, but a lot of his tallness was impression. Comparing Demyx's height and his own to the espresso machine suggested that Demyx was just a little above average. He was just long and lean, all long legs and long hands and hair gelled up a little bit, with a sweet face and a sunny grin, and everything was lengthened a little bit more by the solid black length of his apron.

"He's not that bad. Just give him some time. Took me awhile to get along with him okay, and I like people. Here ya go- one caramel latte." He handed the tall cup over to Roxas, and with it the neatly counter bills and change that Roxas had paid with. "First drink's on the house. Welcome to the building."

Roxas tried to protest but was refused and went to sulk in his corner for a bit.

Riku didn't wake until noon. Roxas had returned to the apartment to put the notebook away and start digging through the classifieds in search of a job, and he was deep into his second newspaper when something behind the curtains in the corner groaned.

"It's already noon, you know," Roxas informed it, circling another ad. "Normal people get up in the morning unless they work a night shift. Which you don't.

"Fuck ooofffff," Riku groaned. "I was up late."

"It's still noon and you're still in bed. Aren't we going somewhere with your brother this afternoon?"

"That's not until two. Leave me alone."

"I bought coffee."

"Good for you."

"I was going to make a pot."

The curtains twitched, then parted, and Riku poked his head out. "Are you sharing?"

"I might if you get your lazy ass out of bed."

"Slave driver." The curtains closed again and there was a lot of rustling around before they opened and Riku shuffled out, yawning and stretching. "I'll make it. What grind is it?"

"Hell if I know. It's what we used to drink at home."

Riku picked up the bag on the counter and leaned heavily against the cabinets while he read the label.

"Mmh. Better for the press than the drip machine. Figures."

By the time Riku's brother showed up, Riku had drunk most of a pot of coffee by himself, eaten two slices of cold pizza, and was behaving more like a human being. Which meant that he was curled in a ball on a couch and scribbling busily away in a sketchpad, which Roxas wouldn't have found half as creepy if he hadn't also been looking up and examining Roxas every few minutes.

The last time Roxas had seen Riku's family, there had been seven of them: Riku, his four brothers (he was the second youngest of five), and his parents, though Roxas secretly believed that the greasy older man hadn't been their father at all, and that either the oldest was a lot older than he looked or their mother, Lucrecia, had had another man on the side. All five boys had hair in varying shades of silver and white, and similar green to bluish-green eyes, though Riku's were more blue than the others. All had perfectly pale skin that tanned lightly in the summer, and they had all been creepy as fuck.

They hadn't changed. Roxas opened the door to roughly seven feet of solid muscle and calf-length silver hair. His natural response to this was to slam the door and flee, but a heavy black boot jammed itself in the doorway before the door could close.

"Riku? Your new roommate is having a coronary. You should probably do something about that."

Riku looked up. "What? Oh. Hi. Jeez, Roxas, it's just Sephiroth. What's your problem?"

"He was barely six foot the last time I saw him!"

"Oh." Sephiroth looked down. "Hn. I grew."

"NO SHIT!"

"Are we brining him along or not? I have other things to do today."

"He's coming. Aren't you, Roxas?"

"I...yes?"

Sephiroth snorted. "Then get your shoes on and get moving. Riku, Loz wants to install-"

"Not again!"

"He got permission from your landlord, actually. And I think you'll like it when he's finished." Sephiroth gave the loft a disdainful once over. "Clearly having a roommate hasn't encouraged you to make this place a little more livable."

"He just got here yesterday afternoon. W haven't had time to change anything except where things go in the bathroom."

"Mmm. You need to do something more. This place is a dump."

"Of course it's a dump! It's an empty space at the top of a seven story building!"

"Keep yelling at me and I'll just stuff your roommate in my pocket and do without you."

Roxas cringed. Men as big as Sephiroth made him uncomfortable. He was normally good about the jokes and teasing that came with being less than five foot six in his socks, and he was used to the normal sort of big guys, the ones that were around six feet tall. But the ones like Sephiroth- the freaks of nature- who were too damn tall or muscular enough to be in a bodybuilding competition or a combination of both...those men terrified him.

Riku wrestled his shoes on, snatched his wallet, and looked expectantly at Roxas. "Well?"

Roxas sighed and joined him.

Several hours later, Roxas was sitting in the back of a very large black pickup truck in the middle of a sea of bags and boxes. What Riku had failed to mention was that Sephiroth's wasn't just driving them to the store and back: he had offered to take them on a single stocking up run, to get them set for the coming semester and make it easier to tote groceries back and forth. And he was buying.

Roxas was mortified. He had argued and tried to weasel out of it and attempted to donate money to the cause and had ended up being picked up by Sephiroth and deposited in a cart so he couldn't escape. Sephiroth had pushed that cart, handing things to Roxas to hold until Roxas gave up and asked to be allowed out.

Sephiroth had bought them a lot of things. Frankly, Roxas knew he should be grateful. Having Pop Tarts and detergent and cereal and flour and pasta and bottled coffee in bulk was a lot of food that would have cost him a lot of money he didn't really have to spend right now, and all that had come before they'd hit the fresh and frozen foods.

Another hour and an ice cream run later, Roxas was sitting in the middle of the loft floor, reading the instructions for assembling a small bicycle trailer. Sephiroth had located a second hitch for it, so both he and Riku could use it.

"So I don't have to take you shopping every few months," he'd said. Whatever the reason was, Roxas was grateful. It would make carrying groceries a hell of a lot easier.

"So…didn't you and Sora move in with your uncle?" Riku asked. He had been given the task of putting everything away while Roxas, who actually understood basic tools and their use, put the trailer together. He'd whined, but admitted that he didn't know the different between a Phillips and a flathead screwdriver, so there wasn't much else he could do but organize.

"Yea. What's it to you?"

"I was just curious. I think Seph knows him. He does deliveries, doesn't he?"

"Mmhm."

"What kind?"

"Any kind, so long as it'll fit in the truck, the van, or on the bike." Roxas squinted at the instructions, frustrated by the lack of decent illustrations.

"Well he delivers _something_ to the agency and Seph sees him now and then."

"Agency?"

"Yeah. Sephiroth models."

Roxas snorted. "Figures."

"He doesn't do full body, or anything that would get him noticed on the street, but they love his hands and body, so they keep him around for all of that. You've probably seen a few ads with him in them, you just didn't know." Riku cut a flat of bottled coffee open and began slotting bottles into the fridge door. "So why did you move out of Cloud's place? You were so excited about it when we were kids."

"Didn't have a choice."

"Yeah? How come?"

"We moved in with his fiancé. In her house."

"We?"

"Sora and Cloud and me."

"Okaaayyyy…..and what happened?"

"They broke it off and we didn't have anywhere to live. Cloud lives in the back room of his office right now. I'm here."

"And Sora?"

"I don't know. He told Cloud tat he's got an apartment and a couple of roommates that he likes."

"What happened between you and Sora, anyway?"

"That's none of your business."

Riku poked his head out from behind the cabinet door and gave Roxas a pointed look. "Hate me all you want, Roxas, but I was Sora's best friend when we were kids, and I want to know that he's okay. _I_ never stopped being his friend."

"Like hell you didn't," Roxas snapped, brandishing a wrench.

"I stopped being allowed to talk to him," Riku reminded him. "I never stopped…liking him."

"Don't say it like that. It's creepy."

"Why? You don't want me to like your brother?"

"Not when it sounds like you want to fuck him, no!"

Riku blushed.

Roxas stopped dead.

"You…you _want_ to…to _Sora_?"

"He was growing up to be gorgeous when we were kids. I just…I figured he'd be…be…" Riku swallowed. "And then you showed up and _you_ turned out hot, so…"

"So you're gay?"

"No."

"But you think me and my brother are hot. You think Sora's _fuckable_."

"Well, yes, but I don't _just_ think boys are attractive. I like everyone, genderwise. As far as other aspects of people go, not always, but what's between their legs or on their chests doesn't really seem to be that important, you know?" Riku smiled faintly. "Don't tell me you're going to hate me all over again because I like guys."

"Tifa threw us out because she found out Cloud had had a boyfriend before she came along," Roxas murmured. "And that they got together again for awhile when she and Cloud were having a huge fight. I think what she did wasn't right, since Cloud wasn't seeing him anymore and he hadn't cheated on her or anything…and the way she said it, we _knew_. It wasn't that there had been another person. She threw us out because Cloud slept with a man. It was an awful thing to do, and she had no right, but…here we are."

Riku paled. "Oh, _god_, Roxas, I'm _sorry_. I…I didn't-"

"So I don't care if you like guys," Roxas continued, tightening a bolt so he had a reason not to meet Riku's eyes. "I do care that you want Sora, but that's…that's different. And you don't have to be sorry. Tifa had no right to act the way she did, but it's over now, and we're all settled in." He sighed. "Maybe it's better this way. I never thought Cloud was ready to marry, and it might….hell, it might even be good for Sora."

"Why do you say that? That kind of trauma sucks for everyone involved."

"Sora's living on his own now. No one's reminding him to wash his sneakers or anything."

Riku looked around at Roxas again. "He's still got that innocent thing going?"

"Last I checked, yeah. He wants to believe everything's alright and sunny and good, and no matter how often you tell him that it's not always that good, he just keeps reaching for the shiny things and you keep slapping his hands out of the way and getting burned, and he's never thankful because he doesn't understand and you can't be _mad_ at him because he doesn't _know_, and…" Roxas swallowed. "It's none of your business. You don't _want_ to hear about this."

Riku shrugged and padded over, offering a can of espresso and cream. "I don't mind. I've wanted to know what was going on with you guys ever since we moved, so…go ahead and rant if it makes you feel better. 'S not like I'm going to be telling anyone."

Roxas took the can, nibbling uncomfortably on the edge of it for a very long minute.

"He just…he said that he agreed with Tifa throwing us out," he said at last. "He thought she was justified. Like Cloud had really done something to hurt her."

Riku made a startled sound and sank down to crouch beside Roxas.

"He _said_ that? Seriously? That…that doesn't sound like him…"

"He's gotten stubborn," Roxas mumbled. "When he decides he likes or believes in something, there's nothing you can do to change his mind. We were already upset about having to move and leave Cloud and everything…I yelled at him, and he started _screaming_ back…two days later he said he'd found his own place and wouldn't be moving with me like we'd planned." He sighed heavily and sipped at the coffee, trying to calm himself. "We haven't spoken since."

"How long has it been?"

"Since he stopped talking to me? About two weeks. I guess it's good, in some ways, but I just know he's going to get hurt and there won't be anyone to help him."

"Sora's a lot stronger tan you think," Riku said quietly. "He was even when we were little."

"I don't _worry_ about him being strong enough, Riku. I worry about…hell, I worry about everything else. Everything he gets himself into. H' strong enough to get out of almost anything, but I wish he wouldn't get into things in the first place. He puts himself in harm's way and doesn't even _realize_ until it's way too late and that's going to hurt him some day."

"You know you can't protect him forever," Riku said quietly. "Trust me."

"How would you know?"

"I've been trying to teach Seph and everyone that for years."

"Seriously? I never thought…"

"Mom's death made Seph really paranoid, and he pretty much mothered me and Loz and Kadaj through the rest of school and everything…he's still mothering Kadaj. Loz still lives at home, and Yaz and Kadaj, and then there's me…living downtown in a loft, first by myself and then with a roommate he doesn't know very well…he tries really hard to take care of me just as if I was home. We've had some pretty awful fights about it, and he's starting to learn, now. He knows I know I can call when I need help. He doesn't call or drop by as much anymore." He smiled faintly. "Sometimes I almost miss it. But the point is that if _Sephiroth_ can understand, you should be able to. Sora won't even be able to get on with his life if you keep trying to run it for him, okay?"

Roxas made a noncommittal sound and chugged half of his coffee in a few long swallows.

"Good enough. Need help with this thing?"

He shook his head and took up the wrench again. Riku went back to his sorting.


	4. Chapter 4

Roxas spent two quiet days getting used to the new place and making a list of places to check for jobs. Riku gave him the password for their Internet connection, and he browsed dozens of applications, filling out a handful and submitting them, gathering others to print in the copy shop a few floors down and fill out by hand for delivery. Finally, however, he had to go out, so he printed out a map and circled all the places he needed to go, then sat and pored over it with a road map until he had a route planned out to follow, in the hopes of making the trip as short and efficient as possible.

Temperatures were heading up into the 80s at nine in the morning when he headed out, and there were a few soft, fluffy white clouds hovering overhead that promised rain later in the day- Roxas hoped that wouldn't come until _after_ he was done running around for day.

Four hours later, Roxas was ready to kill something. He'd been turned down within minutes by more than a dozen businesses. Too young. Too old. Not in the company's image. No college students. No full-time college students. No part-time work available. Not cute enough. Too cute. Couldn't wear the company's clothes. The list of reasons went on and on and on, and Roxas was still without a job. He stopped in at an old-fashioned looking diner that was doing pretty steady business and slid into a little two-seater booth in the back with a laminated menu and a tall glass of iced tea. A pretty red-headed girl with a sweet smile and a pink retro waitress' dress took his order and slipped away, leaving him to brood over his map and list, and eventually to look up and try to find something- _anything_- else to look at.

Well, the cook he could see through the pickup window behind the counter was sporting a head of the thickest, best-kept dreadlocks Roxas had ever seen, all bundled up in a perfect knot at the back of his head, even the band or fastener holding them up hidden by a loop of hair the same way girls wrapped a strand of hair around their pony-tail bands. It was a very elegant look, and Roxas took the little digital camera out of his bag without thinking, focusing on the pickup window and the hair beyond, a little opening into a different world.

"If Xaldin catches you taking pictures without asking, he'll start throwing knives," the waitress warned casually, sliding a heavy plate onto the table in front of Roxas. "He has very good aim, and he won't even need to come out of the kitchen."

Roxas blushed and put his camera away. "Sorry…I just…"

"You can ask and it'd be perfectly fine," she giggled. "A lot of people want to take pictures of him. I guess he used to model for a living and everything…he doesn't talk about it much, but he's really picky about permission and things like that. Want me to ask him?"

"Um…yeah…sure…"

"Be right back! Enjoy your lunch!"

Roxas had a few minutes to start working on his burger- perfectly cooked and flavorful, easily the best he'd ever bought- and fries before Kairi appeared beside him again.

"He's coming out in a minute."

"_What_?"

"Are you a photographer?"

"I'm a _student_, but I-"

"Oh, good. He loves photography students."

Roxas sputtered and tried to argue, but before he could get past the stammering and shock, a massive figure strode up to the table and he forgot what he was supposed to be saying.

The cook was huge, a solid shape of rippling muscle and richly tanned skin, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight around biceps Roxas thought might be bigger around than his thighs, apron strings wound tightly around a thick waist, holding the only faintly stained apron close to trim hips. He looked like he could crush someone's skull between his bare hands.

"Name?" he grunted. A few soft strands of black hair hung free of his dreads, waving softly in the breeze from the air conditioning and caressing his eyebrows, one of them falling far enough to flirt around the silver hoop, thick as a worm, that ran through his upper ear.

"R-roxas…um, sir?"

"No sir. Just Xaldin. You know it's rude to take pictures of people without asking."

"Actually, I just saw your hair…I didn't really think of the person attached to it." It sounded stupid the moment he said it, but there was no taking it back and it really was the truth- the person under the hair hadn't occurred to him until Kairi had pointed the man out.

"My hair?"

"Uh...yeah...I could just see the...uh...bun...through the window into the kitchen. Just that. I thought it looked interesting- a contrast to how people see a cook. They have this image of a white-ish guy, probably with a bad accent, wearing chef's whites and swanning around a spotless kitchen, and they never think of a cook ever having a personality...never being a real person. Never being unique. I thought your hair was a really neat way to contrast that idea, so I just got my camera out without thinking. Sorry."

Xaldin grinned at Roxas, revealing a startlingly sweet smile that lit his rough face up like a beacon.

"Cute, kid. Take all the pictures you want. Come back if you want more- me an' the counter girls won't mind if you have assignments you need to do here. Happens all the time." He nodded at the camera. "May I?"

Roxas handed the little device over, watching Xaldin pick it up- it was almost lost in his huge hands- and scroll through the handful of pictures Roxas had taken before Kairi caught him. "Huh. These aren't bad. You use filters?"

"Sometimes...I like to add a grayscale filter to the ones I think benefit from it- not all of them. Sometimes color is the most important part of an image and I'd never want to detract from that, but-" Roxas stopped himself, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry. Babbling."

"Nah, 's okay. Good to hear you have an eye for natural art. Too many photographers these days are trying to make the art, and they miss the things you see- the important things. The things you can't change with a filter or editing software." He handed the camera back. "Lunch is on the house, Roxas. Be seein' you."

Xaldin ambled back into the kitchen, and a moment later, the sharp clatter and bustle of a working kitchen once again floated trough the pick-up window. A few minutes after that, a frothy, perfect chocolate milkshake was sent to Roxas' table, compliments of the counter girls. Kairi assured him that anyone Xaldin liked was welcome in at any time, on any day, so long as they were open- which they were, 24/6 and from 6am to 10pm on Sundays.

Kairi kept coming by to top off Roxas' tea and have a few moments of chatter wit him while he ate, until it came out that he was looking for a job.

"I know someone who's looking for some new hires," Kairi mused. "Do you have a bike or something?"

"Yeah?"

"Alright. Hang on. Let me get his number and address."

Fifteen minutes later, Roxas was pedaling away, heading for a place called HighWind Couriers, carrying a short note from Kairi and hoping that this would be the last stop on his route.

HighWind Couriers was housed in a small fenced-in compound filled with bicycles, trailers, a few compact cars, trucks, vans, two small aircraft, a little speedboat, and a cage full of skates and scooters. Three gleaming motorcycles were parked right outside the front door.

Inside, Roxas was ushered into an office by a lean, terrifying blonde woman who smelled strangely of burning electrical wires, told to sit, and was subsequently abandoned in a crowded office stuffed with book cases, maps of the city and neighboring towns, and a massive desk. The whole place smelled of cigarette smoke and something earthier that reminded Roxas of the tea tins Riku had put in the pantry.

The door slammed open behind him. Roxas jumped out of his chair.

"Get your butt back in that seat, kid," a stocky blond man grunted, moving around Roxas to drop unceremoniously into the chair behind the desk. "Who are you?"

"Roxas Strife."

"Strife? You got a relative who runs a delivery service?"

"Yes sir."

"Huh. And you're not working for him?"

"He's not hiring. And I don't work for family. It gets messy."

"Smart thinking. 'M Cid HighWind- this is my business. Larxene out front tells me the girls at the Daisy Diner sent you."

"Well...Kairi did."

Cid shrugged, tapping a cigarette out into his hand and lighting it with a few short, practiced movements. "Whatever. She likes you, the other girls do too. She tell you what I need?"

"Just that I need to have transportation."

"And do you?"

"I've got a bicycle and a skateboard. And I think I still have a pair of roller blades somewhere."

"That your hybrid out there in the rack?"

"Yes."

"With a trailer hitch?"

"For hauling groceries."

"Mmm. You fast?"

"I used to be able to beat the city bus from my house to the branch campus," Roxas informed him, rather proud of that fact. It had saved him more than once the pervious year.

"Uh-huh. I'm looking for a new courier, Roxas. Someone who can get through traffic on the sidewalk or on the street and get deliveries where they're due as fast as possible. This isn't a delivery service like your family runs- we don't have scheduled drops. Everything is rushed. Everything has to get there as fast as it possibly can. There is no waiting. No breaks. No deadline. You run yourself as hard as you can for every. Single. Assignment. You think you can handle that?"

Roxas nodded. "Yes, sir."

"On your board, bike, or skates?"

"Anything you send me out on."

Cid chuckled. "I like that. It's a full-time position. What's your class schedule look like?"

Roxas recited it for him, thankful that he had arranged for a staggered schedule, just a few classes a day and Fridays free.

"Good. You've got more than enough time. We pay by the hour, minimum wage. Time and a half for overtime. Most clients tip, and there are bonuses and rewards for good performance. Health coverage. No lunch break, but you're required to take fifteen minutes every two hours, and those fifteen minutes are paid, so you eat then. The more jobs you take in a day without killing yourself, the better your end of the month bonus will be, but if I think you're hurting yourself, you'll get stuck on yard duty for awhile and there won't be any bonus for that. Still want the job?"

Roxas nodded eagerly. It sounded hard, but he doubted it would ever get boring on him. New deliveries and places to go every day? Rewards for being fast, and being allowed to shoot for bonuses so long as he did his job well? No working on a team or anything like that? Perfect.

"I do."

"Go out an' talk to Larxene again. She'll tell you what she needs to get your paperwork filed. Once it goes through, I'll send you your work schedule. You need to get here fifteen minutes before your shift starts to check out your ride and sign it off for the day, but if we call you to pick something up on the way in, those fifteen minutes are paid instead of on your time." Cid reached across the desk and offered a rough, weathered hand to Roxas. "Welcome to the team, kid."


	5. Chapter 5

Roxas spent the next week and a half working like a mad thing. Cid offered to let him pick up extra hours before classes started, to give him a bit of padding in case something came up later that effected his hours, so Roxas worked six ten hour days, took a day off, and worked another three days before classes began. After that, he was expected to get in five hours a day Monday through Thursday, then come in work ten hours on Saturdays. Sundays he would remain on call, and Friday was, as Cid put it, 'homework and fucking around' time. Thirty guaranteed hours a week was a lot more than Roxas had expected, and the work was _fun. _He was supplied with maps and a tiny GPS to clip to his pants or his bike, had his panniers replaced for better carrying ability, and got to go new places every day, exploring the city in a way he would have never gotten a chance to otherwise. His coworkers shared favorite shortcuts, alleys that were always clear, hidden streets without names, unfenced backyards and dirt lots without guard dogs, and bike paths with little traffic. They shared good stopping spots too, including places that offered fast service and discounts to couriers running in for a bite to eat on their breaks. After a string of fast food and holiday retail jobs, the courier job was heaven. Exhausting, but heaven.

Then school was in session. Roxas caught the bus with his bike on the rack up front, wanting to save himself for work that afternoon, and went over his schedule and campus map one last time. His classes were scattered all over, proof of the random assortment of general ed courses he was completing while he tried to finalize a major.

By the end of the day, Roxas was _ready_ to go to work and burn off a morning of boredom. Every single class, including the ones he'd been looking forward too, had been nothing but introductions and going over the syllabus. He'd stood up three times and said the same things about who he was and where he was from and all the inane little details no one cared about after middle school. Then he sat back down and tuned out the other two dozen or more people introducing themselves, went to the next class, and did it all again.

Three hours and more than a dozen deliveries later, Cid caught up with him in the yard, pumping his tire back up after fixing a flat.

"Gen ed classes?" he asked casually.

"Huh?"

"You're working like a little speed demon. Taking gen ed classes this semester?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yep. First week or so, those classes drive my kids nuts. I swear, I get more work done and more routes taken care of the two starting weeks a year than any other time- you all need t' _do_ something after a day of boredom."

Roxas laughed, giving the tire one last pump and screwing the cap back on. "Yeah…we're all nineteen or older, but these professors think we need to stand up and introduce ourselves. I'm actually looking _forward_ to my biology lecture tomorrow…it's got two hundred people in it, so we _can't_ introduce ourselves."

Cid winced. "Not taking anything fun?"

"I thought I was…but I've got a photography class tomorrow that should be alright, I think…"

"Well, good luck. And don't push yourself too hard today. Or tomorrow. The first week goes by fast."

"Yeah, thanks."

Roxas' last class of the day was a photography course, the only advanced class he'd signed up for, an intimate little gathering of less than twenty people in a small, round classroom. He liked the professor the moment he walked in: Dr. Koizumi was a tall, elegantly handsome man with a short, sleek ponytail of black hair, a string of prayer beads wrapped around his wrist, and the top edge of what looked like a very complex tattoo peeking over the collar of his neatly pressed shirt. He lounged against the podium, watching each student walk in and settle.

At precisely one minute after the class' posted start time, Dr Koizumi crossed the room, closed the door, and placed a heavy looking stone carving of a seated cat in front of it.

"If you are late to my class, you will not be coming at all," he said quietly. His voice carried easily, as the room was otherwise silent. "Unless you contact me beforehand with a very good excuse." He moved back to the podium and leaned against it. "All of you are here. I assume you have sufficient equipment to complete the course, so I will not be giving you a supplies list. You may work in film or digital media as you choose, but do _not_ use editing software without my express permission. The college has cameras available for rent if you need one, but be advised that they are expensive to keep for long periods of time and that you are better off buying a camera of your own. If you wish to know if your camera is in good condition or if it will be sufficient for completing the coursework, you may schedule a private meeting with me during office hours and I will inspect it for you. Do not ask in class, before class, or after class. I have other classes to get to, two campus groups to oversee, and a number of meetings and organizations to tend to. My time is precious, and I expect you to use the time I have allotted for you rather than trying to nibble at the edges of the time reserved for others. If you absolutely _must___speak with me outside office hours, we may be able to arrange something; contact me through email."

The class remained still and silent. Roxas was impressed. In his other classes, a monologue of even that short length would have had his fellow students shifting around and beginning to talk amongst themselves.

"Now…traditionally, the first day of class is reserved for coverage of the syllabi and introductions of professor and students. Personally, I think all of that is a waste of time and effort. However, some rules must be obeyed. You will find, on the desktop before you, a brief synopsis of the syllabus. You may print the rest off the class website if you wish. As for introductions…come with me."

The class filed out of the classroom after the Professor and stood together in a curious cluster in the lobby of the art building. Dr. Koizumi produced a small digital camera from his pocket. "Form a line," he instructed. "I don't care what order, but remember who you are standing between. One at a time, you will take this camera outside and take a single picture. You will have sixty seconds from the moment you open the door, and no more. Return with the camera, hand it to the next person, and return to the classroom. We will review your choice of subject as an introduction to you as both an individual and as an artist. Ready?" he handed the camera to Roxas, who had somehow managed to wind up in front. "Go."

Roxas hurried for the door, grinning like a fool. _This_ was a class he was going to enjoy.


	6. Chapter 6

Three weeks passed. Cid was right- the boredom in the gen ed classes faded away and he kept busy, running from class to class, doing homework, and taking every delivery he could get at work. It was a hectic way to live, but Roxas found he enjoyed it. Getting up the stairs at the end of a long work day was still painful, but by the end of August, he realized that it was easier, even if it hurt…hours and hours of cycling all over the city were undoing the softening and damage that a lazy, unproductive summer had done to his body.

He found himself getting along with Riku, too. The apartment was almost always smelling of some strange art supply that Riku needed for this or that project, glazes and stains and sealants and paints and resins and assorted other things Roxas didn't care to learn about. Riku spent much of his free time in his corner of the loft, working busily, and it was only after Roxas asked if he was ever going to get a job that Riku revealed that he already had one- he did design work and made custom jewelry, which explained the smell of solder Roxas sometimes came home to. He took sketch and line art commissions as well, modeled for the university art department, and did portraits when asked. He offered to put Roxas in the department's book of artists available for commission, claiming that they were short on photographers and people were always asking for them. Against his better judgment, Roxas agreed.

In the evenings, at least when Roxas worked, Riku made dinner or reheated leftovers, and on Friday nights, they ordered takeout or pizza delivered to the apartment- though they had to wait on the ground floor, as the delivery people never wanted to take six flights of stairs to bring the food to their door. Roxas stocked the freezer with fast meals he'd made himself, following Cloud's recipes from back when they'd needed a way to get two teenagers fed before a 6:30 bus to the high school, and they shared coffee duties. It wasn't a bad way to live. Sometimes, Roxas even thought he was happy.

"Photography is more than singular images. It's about the moments in time that are being captured. Time is _linear_, and contains many events occurring at the same time. This is why…"

Roxas yawned and knuckled his eyes. It was late morning, a bad time for a long photography lecture, and he was tired from running all over town the day before. He had to start going to bed earlier or something…feeling this tired was something he had trouble fixing with coffee. He even _liked_ photography, was planning on making it his major, but…even with Mr. Koizumi being an interesting instructor and the topic being something he loved, he couldn't keep hi mind on anything but sleep for more than a few minutes.

"…And so, since you seemed to be absolutely _riveted_, Mr. Strife, perhaps you would like to choose the first essay assignment?"

Roxas shook himself, finding the professor a few feet away and holding a bowl full of paper slips.

"Um…what?"

"I _said_, Mr. Strife, that this semester you will each complete a long, in-depth photo essay concerning a location on campus. You will choose these locations randomly through a drawing and will not be allowed to trade for another. We will be checking back every Monday as a class to lecture and cover new topics, and your class time on Wednesday and Thursdays will be devoted to working on your project. _Choose_."

Roxas swallowed hard and reached into the bowl, praying for somewhere he knew.

**CAPPELLAN STAR THEATRE**

"Ahh. A very popular location. Consider yourself lucky."

"But I don't even know where-"

"There is a packet at the front of the room about each location. You will be pick it up on your way out and use it to get yourself started."

Roxas nodded vaguely.

"You may go, Mr. Strife."

"Oh!"

Roxas grabbed his things and rushed out of the room, trying to ignore the laughter behind him.

Cappellan Star Theatre was near the center of the University, near one of the libraries, a colossal building that stretched an arm of workshops and storage out towards the art complex. It had been built in 1945, remodeled in 1979, and had had another remodel and refurbishing session just two years ago. It featured two stages in two auditoriums, several smaller black box theatres, and rehearsal space. It was the second largest theater in the city and the largest one on a university. It was home to no less than seven performing arts groups from the university and several from town.

Roxas didn't know a thing about theatre.

Lost, he wandered around the building, glancing down at his paperwork now and again, then looking back up and hoping that he might be able to find _something_ useful if he wandered long enough.

He located an open door at long last and lipped inside.

He found himself in a dimly lit room full of hanging equipment, cables, and light bulbs. The only proper light in the room came from a bright lamp bent over a workbench in the corner, gleaming on a massive cylinder of metal and making the pale skin of the man tinkering with the cylinder all but glow.

"Can I help you, squirt?"

"I….think I came in the wrong door…." Roxas squinted at his papers, trying to figure out where he was on the inadequate diagram of the building.

"Lemme see that. What're you looking for?"

Roxas held the papers out, trying not to cringe as a big hand sporting a couple of heavy-looking stone rings stanched them out of his hand and held them under the light.

"The hell? You don't have a class here or anything?"

"No, I'm here for a class...all semester. Sort of." Roxas smiled apologetically. "I have to turn in a photo essay about some aspect of the theatre."

Bright green eyes surveyed him over the top of the papers.

"Am I going to be ass-deep in little kids like you this week?"

"Um...no. It's just me. We each drew a different place on campus."

"Just you, huh? I can find a place to hide just one body..."

He stood up. And up. And up. He was nearly Sephiroth's height, but where Riku's eldest brother was heavy with muscle, the man at the worktable was long and lean and wiry, shoulders broad, biceps firm and defined and mostly covered in tattoos Roxas was too nervous to admire. There were more tattoos, peeking out from under his shirt where it rode up over his hip on one side, and on his face, small, dark triangles inverted under his eyes like tears. Lots of metal on him too, in his ears and his eyebrow and flashing when he talked from something set into his tongue. Roxas noted the slightly odd way his shirt hung and realized that there were piercings under it, in his nipples. All in all, he looked like one very dangerous man.

"Body?"

"I don't like having civilians running around my shop and breaking shit. Don't like 'em on the set or fucking up rehearsals either." He stretched, cracking his knuckles with a symphony of pops. "I take care of the theatre crew, kid. Xig trusts me to mind what he can't."

"I won't get in the way!" Roxas said quickly. "I can work on something out of the way. Or I...I could just...stay where you tell me, wherever's convenient that day? As long as it's about the theatre, I can do the project on anything, so..."

The man- a tech, Roxas decided. He had to be- sighed, apparently considering it.

"Mmn...I don't like it. But...hell, I guess you can stick with me. Best place to keep you out of trouble is underfoot- that way I can catch you before you break something important that I'll have to make you pay for. You can even do your project on me, if you want to."

"Who are you, exactly?"

"Axel Tarshil. Theatre tech major. Senior. I rule the techs that the theatre manager doesn't have time to bother with- Xigbar's in charge of everything and I'm in charge of keeping everything from getting in his way."

Roxas nodded. "I could...oh, hey, there's a big show in November, right? I could just chronicle the backstage proceedings from your perspective. If that's okay with you."

Axel thought about it. "Eh. I guess. There some contract I gotta sign or something?"

"I don't think so." Roxas dug his phone out of his pocket and opened up the camera function. "Smile."

Axel shook his head and gave Roxas a perfect 'fuck off' scowl.


	7. Chapter 7

On the first Friday of September, Roxas packed up and bussed himself over to the far side of town to see Cloud. He'd been making it a Friday ritual, as much about being with family as it was to make sure Cloud was still eating and taking care of himself.

Cloud wasn't doing too well. Every time Roxas went to see him, he looked al little older and a little more worn out, with lines around his mouth and at the corner of his eyes that a man his age shouldn't have had. But he did, and they spoke of pain and long nights without sleep and they made Roxas ache to see them.

That day, though, Cloud had summoned him for a visit, which was rare, so Roxas took the time to clean himself up and go early.

Cloud met hi at the door with a small canvas tote bag.

"Hey. Glad you could come."

"Yeah, no problem. How's everything?"

"Sucky as usual. I do have a job for a local deli in the works, though. A regular contract instead of this one at a time stuff. Better money."

Roxas winced. "You should aim higher. Maybe a nicer, upscale place to work in an office or something." He knew Cloud would hate office work, but wanted him to have money and be happy on his fays off.

"Eh...I manage. Can you take this back to Sora?" Cloud held the bag out. It was Sora's library tote. "He hasn't been by in awhile and I want to make sure it's back on time."

"I'm not a library service," Roxas grumbled.

"I know tat. But it's not really on my way to anywhere and you've got to head by that area on your way home."

"But I won't want to see him!"

"Roxas, he's your twin brother. You have to see him. You see him every time you look into a mirror."

"Not funny," Roxas grunted, crossing his arms. "What's in the bag?"

"Books and paperwork, and a DVD. It's not very heavy. Please? I'll give you twice your going rate for in-town delivery, and I'll even bring it in to the office. Deal?"

Roxas sighed. Twice his going rate for special deliveries was good enough money to pay his electrical bill every month.

"Fiiiiiine," he groaned. "But you owe me a drink or something."

"I said I'd pay-"

"I'm not taking your money, Cloud. Drink or nothing."

Cloud looked down at his feet. They both knew he couldn't afford to be paying delivery boys who made more than he did. "Yeah…yeah, alright. Call me when you want it…"

"After payday. For both of us. We can go have fun." Roxas hugged Cloud briefly. "Did you want to hang out?"

"Nah…I have work to do."

Roxas sighed and waved and headed back outside with the back hanging around his wrist. Cloud had given him an address, complete with official road signs and local landmarks to make sure Roxas wouldn't get lost. Roxas appreciated the help, but the apartment was in an area he'd gone through many times, though not in a complex he was familiar with, and he could have found it with only the complex name and the intersecting roads.

Once he got there, though, he was convinced that he was in the wrong place. Queen's Court was a very posh set of tall apartment buildings with huge, gleaming windows, manicured lawns, and perfectly clear pool, and an automated, coded gate. Roxas got in through the walking gate with a code Cloud had given him and wandered around, wheeling his bike and looking for building 4.

The elevator worked in building 4. Roxas kept his bike close to his side and hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble for taking it inside the building. He didn't know what the rule where in a fancy place like this, and he'd begun to worry that Sora had done something bad to get there...if he really did live there. Maybe sold himself to a rich older woman with a taste for pretty young men? Or a rich older man? Something worse?

A skinny older man answered the door of Apartment 11 when Roxas rang the bell, but he didn't look like the kind of rich executive Roxas had been expecting: he was on the short side, long black hair liberally streaked with pale gray, face heavily scarred, one golden-hazel eye covered by a black patch.

"Yeah? What can- holy shit, you look just like Sora."

"We're twins," Roxas said sourly. "Is he here? I have something for him. And who are you?"

"Xigbar Mayim. So you're Roxas, huh? Sora's told us a lot about you. C'mon in." Xigbar turned away from the door and moved further inside. "Sora! You've got company!"

Roxas followed him, trying not to stare as he walked into a room that opened up to the second floor, fronted by a wall of windows that looked over the buildings across the street into the park beyond. Not a bad view. There was a second floor above him, starting part way back, so that it had a balcony looking down onto the living room floor where Roxas stood. A staircase led up to it from the far corner, near a door labeled 'OFFICE'. A well-appointed kitchen and breakfast bar were situated under the second floor, with a dining area creeping out towards the open, sunny space.

Right in the middle of the sunny spot, Roxas saw someone he recognized: a lean, lanky blonde with disastrous hair, sitting in full Lotus position on a yoga mat and apparently completely out of tune with the rest of the world, if his expression was anything to go by.

"Demyx?" Roxas hissed.

"You know him?" Xigbar asked, slouching into the kitchen and rummaging in the fridge.

"He works at the coffee shop in my building."

"Ohhhhh, so you're that little blonde guy. Wow. Small world. You live with Riku?"

"You know him, too?"

"No, but I know a couple of his brothers, and the Crescent boys like to brag about each other. Except Kadaj, but...that kid's a piece of work."

"He always has been," Roxas muttered. "I grew up a couple blocks down from them."

"Really small world," Xigbar mused. "So-RA! Get your ass down here!"

"I'm doing homework!" Roxas knew that indignant yell anywhere. It was Sora's special 'you're disturbing me while I'm doing something important that may or may not have a lasting impact on my entire life, have you no soul?' yell, and it had gotten him out of many an evening's dish washing.

"You have COMPANY! I'm not here to entertain your people, kid!"

"Alright, I'm COMING!"

Feet stomped across the ceiling over Roxas' head and clattered down the stairs. Sora swung himself around the banister and skidded into the kitchen, a question already forming on his lips when he saw Roxas. He stopped moving.

"What are you doing here?"

"Dropping off the stuff you left at Cloud's. He said you needed it back." Roxas held the bag out.

"Oh...thanks."

"How did you wind up here? Isn't this place kind of expensive? Did you get a job?"

"You're not Mom, Roxas."

"I'm just asking!"

"I know the guy who owns the place," Xigbar murmured, holding a bottled sport drink over Roxas' shoulder. "He owes me a lot of favors. Lets me and a few roommates rent out one of the bigger places at a discount, provided we don't cause trouble and I give him a hand with maintenance now and then. We don't pay much more than you would at a nice place in the University district. Utilities are covered."

"What are you paying?"

"$250 a month, plus groceries. I pay a little more than that."

Roxas stared at Sora. He was paying the same, plus half his utilities, and he lived in a single room with attached bathroom.

"Did you get a job?" he asked finally.

"I coach a kid's soccer league," Sora said quietly. "And I'll be doing the indoor soccer and hockey once outdoor soccer season is over. It pays pretty good, and I'm staying in shape for spring intramurals. What are you doing?"

"I'm a courier for HighWind. It's fulltime, so I don't really have time for anything but that and class. I'm sharing a loft near campus...over Demyx's coffee shop." It sounded so simple and easy when he said it like that, and Roxas almost added something to make it sound the way it felt; maybe he should mention that the air conditioning only worked sometimes, and they had to rely on spot fans because anything big enough to move the air in the loft used too much electricity, or that they had sat down on the first day of the month and calculated exactly how much money they each had to contribute in order to make it to October. Sora didn't seem to be hurting for money at all.

"That sounds really great. Something you'd like to do. Do you? Like it, I mean?"

Roxas nodded. "Yeah. It... keeps me busy."

Over by the windows, Demyx stretched, stood slowly, and pulled the buds out of his ears.

"Roxas!" he yelped, bounding over. Roxas tried to ignore the fact that he was almost completely undressed. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"Bringing S- my brother some things he left at Cloud's," Roxas managed, trying to wriggle out of the enthusiastic hug. "I didn't know you lived with him. You never said."

"I wasn't sure you were his brother. 's not like he told me what your name was, and I assumed you'd be a brunette, like him."

"Everything but the hair color matches," Roxas sighed, touching his messy golden spikes.

"Well, now I know. Good to see you!"

"Yeah...you too."

Sora swung the bag a little awkwardly. "It was nice to see you," he mumbled.

"You too. I...I should be going. I've got...homework to do."

"Me too. Maybe I'll see you o campus?"

"Maybe. Later, Sora. Nice to meet you, Xigbar."

"Yeah, you too, kid. Ride safe."

"Byyyyeeeeee, Roxaaaaassssss!"

Dazed and confused, Roxas tottered out into the hall, into the elevator, and away.


	8. Chapter 8

Roxas found that he liked spending his time with Axel. For all his scariness, he was nice enough once he was certain his territory wasn't being threatened. Axel was dedicated to his work in a way Roxas only hoped he could be some day, spending long hours fiddling with equipment or props or the perfect blend of sound and positioning of speakers. He knew where everything was kept, where it was when it wasn't where it ought to be, who had probably taken it, and how long it would be before the thing returned if he didn't go fetch it. He knew dozens of theatre people and students by name and face, casually greeting them as he strolled down a hallway with a light over his shoulder or bent over the op of a ladder to set up a display in the lobby. Roxas followed him, learning about the theatre as he went, taking pictures of everything and filling his free time with the lean redhead. Cid let him change his work schedule, so that he worked earlier and got off sooner, so he could meet Axel at the theatre in time for evening rehearsals.

In late September, Roxas watched Axel paint dozens of cotter pins to blend into the blackness of the lighting equipment. He took pictures of long, thin fingers and thick leather wristbands splayed over a battered wooden workbench, sometimes smeared with black paint, turning a fine spray gun this way and that to coat gleaming metal on all sides.

Axel made him stay in the lobby when he went for smoke breaks, so Roxas perched in the window seats there and took pictures of the posters lining the wall, documenting the greatest performances the theatre had seen and those that were yet to come that season.

In October, Roxas got to put his camera down and help put together a few hundred prop bags for the annual Rocky Horror Picture Show event. He'd never seen the movie, just heard stories about it, and Axel promised to drag him into the show. When they weren't packing bags of toilet paper and newspaper and noisemakers and a handful of other things, Axel explained how lighting gels worked, why they were called gels, what they were made of now, and how a handful of gels on a few lights could be combined by a skillful tech to make any number of colors and effects.

Two days before Halloween, Axel met Roxas in the parking lot wearing a black corset, panties, stockings, gloves, and high-heeled boots, red hair temporarily dyed black, sharp features exaggerated and drawn out with makeup until he was terrifying and beautiful and a strange creature somewhere between pretty and handsome, oozing sex. Roxas didn't understand the outfit until Dr. Frankenfurter's first appearance, and then he was mortified, but he took pictures of Axel and the others in costume anyway, making a note of his favorites for later.

He kind of enjoyed getting to use one of the prop bags, but he was not at all amused when Axel threw him to the wolves by announcing that he was a Rocky virgin and sending him to the stage with a handful of other hapless virgins, most of them freshman, to be subjected to detailed instructions on how to do the Time Warp. They weren't allowed to leave until they got it right, and Roxas wasn't sure if he should be proud that his pelvic thrusts were good enough to grant him an escape before anyone else or not.

On Halloween, he followed Axel back and forth down the hallways and catwalks, servicing the massive Monster Mash event, which took over the entire theatre and had performances, movie showings, costume contests, and a dance all within the theatre complex. It was a busy night, but sometime around four in the morning, Roxas took one last picture of Axel, sprawled on an empty extension cord crate with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, smiling lazily at the camera and saluting with the cup.

November rolled around, chilly and wet, and Roxas perched on seats in the auditoriums, snapping shots of Axel adjusting seats, crawling along the floor with a wrench in his mouth and a screwdriver in his hand, wearing a little miner's light strapped to his forehead.

After Axel finished in the evenings, they usually went to get coffee, often ending up with Roxas' bike jammed into the back of Axel's battered purple Jeep and driving across town to a little place Axel frequented, where they curled in a corner booth and discussed life over lattes in big ceramic drinking bowls and Roxas took a few pictures of those familiar fingers curled around the bowls, studded with a varying assortment of rings.

Axel smiled a lot more in November, and Roxas couldn't help being pleased that he'd been able to get close to the interesting man.


	9. Chapter 9

By the end of November, Roxas had gotten used to walking into the loft or looking up when the door opened and finding that Demyx was there for a visit. He modeled for Riku so often that Roxas was starting to wish they were making him pay rent.

It was raining. Roxas had had to trek all the way to work and back when he was told that the weather was too serious for any of the couriers who weren't driving to be working, and that he should just go home and not to worry, he'd be paid for a half shift to make up for it. Roxas was soaking wet when he returned, so he stripped, wrapped up in a towel, and lay down on the bed, waiting to dry out before he put anything else on. There was only one drip leaking through the ceiling so far, plinking musically into the bucket Riku had put out to catch it, and the extra sealant Loz had put in around the windows and in assorted other places that usually hemorrhaged heat was keeping the place at a tolerable temperature. Riku himself was straddling his drawing stool and making weird faces at the big sketchbook.

A knock at the door. Roxas ignored it, preferring to pretend he wasn't there at all. The day already sucked; he didn't want to have to be social on top of it.

"It's oooooopen!" Riku hollered.

"Do you have to do that?" Roxas grumbled. "What if it's a serial killer?"

"It's not."

"But what if it was? Or a Jehovah's Witness?"

"I'm gay and you're naked. We'd scare 'em off."

The door opened before Roxas could come up with someone who would come in after that kind of announcement and Demyx bounded in.

"It's RAINING!" he announced, kicking the door closed and wrestling his shoes off.

"And the roof's leaking," Riku sighed. "We know."

"I'm soaked. Mind if I dry off a little?"

"Go ahead."

Roxas saw part of Demyx's arms raise up to peel his t-shirt off. The wet fabric hit the floor with a sloppy sound. Then came the sound of a belt being unbuckled, and wet denim being unstuck from skin and allowed to crumple to the floor as well. Socks came off with some awkward hopping. Roxas hoped Demyx wasn't going commando.

Several minutes later, Roxas heard skin hitting skin and a very sloppy, wet sound.

He made the mistake of looking up.

Riku and Demyx were twined around each other near the smaller couch, one of Riku's hands sliding down Demyx's very tan back and into his boxers- which were also damp- and one of Demyx's sliding through Riku's hair to remove the tie. They were joined at the mouth, kissing busily.

Roxas wanted to crawl into his dresser and die. He almost began to do just that, but saw Demyx starting to push Riku down onto the couch.

"Not on the COUCH!" he yelped, not wanting to think about ever using that furniture again if he knew that Riku's bare ass had been on it. And maybe his yelling would get them to let go of each other.

They just moved, collapsing onto Riku's bed with a joint startled sound and wrapping up with each other and even more fervor.

In a few minutes, they were both completely naked and there was a bottle of lube lying discarded on the bed. Demyx was on his hands and knees and Riku hovered over him, drawing desperate, needy, delicious sounds out of him.

Roxas dove for his clothes and rushed back out into the rain, already dialing Axel's number.

Ten minutes later, Roxas was perched on the bench outside the coffee shop and watching the rain when Axel pulled up at the curb. Roxas ran for the car, diving inside to escape the rain.

"Thanks," he gasped, trying to get his limbs sorted out after the door closed.

"No problem. This is seriously the first time you've seen them go at it?"

Roxas looked up from trying to get the seatbelt to cooperate.

"This happens often?"

Axel snorted. "They're both sex fiends, squirt. And they're a hell of a lot happier since they've met each other, that's for sure. They're both safe knowing they've got someone they can always go to for a quickie, so they don't get twitchy or anything. Before Riku moved in, you could tell when Demyx hadn't been laid recently."

"Do I want to know how you know this?"

"I've done 'em both."

Roxas groaned. "Why do all the people I know think about nothing but sex?"

Axel grinned. "Because most of the people you know are older than you and not virgins."

"I am not a virgin!"

"Whatever you say, squirt. But it's not healthy to live in denial."

"I'm not in denial! Just because I haven't fucked another guy doesn't make me a virgin!"

"Hey, hey, chill out. You've done a chick?"

Roxas nodded, staring out the window and hoping Axel didn't notice how hard he was blushing.

"Only once?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You're hot, Rox. Seein' you single and never on a date or a hook-up with someone makes a guy wonder what's missing."

"Girls are…" Roxas shook his head. "I don't know. I don't find them as attractive as I used to think I did and dating them without being attracted to them seemed…mean. So I don't date."

"You think guys are attractive, then?"

"Sometimes. More since I moved in with Riku."

"You _can't_ have the hots for _Riku_."

"What? _No_! I just…he makes comments and then I have to look and I see…people. Guys. In a better light. He told me to look at people like I'm looking at them through a camera, and I'll see all the things that make them beautiful. It works." Roxas rubbed his face. "I'm not attracted to Riku. That's _Sora's_ thing, and if Riku's going to flirt with him, he should stop fucking his roommate!"

"If he didn't fuck someone, squirt, he'd lose his mind and probably do something to scare Sora off. A least it's Demyx- the guy's a bit of a spaz, but he's clean as hell. Plays it safe, gets tested regularly, and never does anything unless he's sober. You couldn't ask for Riku to have a better boy toy while he tries to find his way into your bother's pants."

"Don't _say_ that!"

When they got to Axel's little apartment, Roxas was handed a very large t-shirt and a very small pair of shorts and told to put it on so his wet clothes wouldn't be soaking into Axel's couch. Roxas changed into them with a thankful groan and sprawled on the couch, watching without paying much attention when Axel walked by without a shirt on.

He'd slept with Riku and Demyx...last Roxas knew, Axel didn't' fit their ideal figures...so why? He supposed that sex addiction could prompt one to sleep with people you weren't attracted to, but the fact that two people he knew had both chosen the same guy and- from the sound of it, had chosen him more than once- suggested that Axel had...something.

"Here." Axel held a heavy ceramic mug over Roxas' shoulder. "I'm gonna shower. Try not to mess with anything."

Roxas shifted to nurse the hot chocolate and continued pondering the strange situation, lost in theories and mental images until Axel strolled back out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and steam billowing around him in great soft clouds, stretching as he made his way into the kitchenette. Without thinking, Roxas looked at him through his mental camera, looking for the parts he'd focus on for a perfect shot.

Roxas had seen Axel's tattoos before. There were the Roman numerals surrounded by flames on the upper part of both of his biceps, the massive back piece of the chakram things he had hanging on his wall, the little comedy and tragedy masks on his foot, and the flock of birds that flew over his hip bone and away to his back. But Roxas had never seen them all together, as he had never seen Axel really...naked.

He really was kind of pretty. Roxas could certainly understand why Riku moaned about never being able to get him to model. For all of his almost awkward lankiness, there was a strange kind of grace in Axel's body, flowing through the long lines of him like a gentle light. His movements were fluid and smooth, flowing easily into each other, step to reach to stretch to slow stirring of a coffee cup, never stopping and never broken into separate motions. His skin was pale, something Roxas was familiar with, but it wasn't the pale tan e sported or the milky white Riku had now that summer was long over. It was a creamy, pure kind of pale, touched with peach and accented with tiny freckles, mostly in places that got more sun than the rest of him. But it leant an almost inhuman quality to his skin, a lack of transparency, and a consistent air of perfection from nose to toes, like he was some kind of a doll.

Not that any doll had ever been like Axel. Tattoos aside, there were the piercings to be considered, and the scars scattered all over him. The slightly knobby knees and the almost comically large, long-fingered hands like grasping tree branches at the end of his wrists. The sharp angles of his collarbone weren't something any dollmaker would sell...and the same sharp boney lines at his hips, making clear lines down beneath his towel. A soft trail of red hair from under his navel...pretty coral-colored nipples with those stupid piercings in them. That way he bent over and folded up like he wasn't made of bone and muscle, like there was rubber in his spine and compression foam in his stomach. He was beautiful.

"If I didn't know better, Roxie, I'd say you were staring at me," Axel said smoothly, padding over to sink down on the other end of the couch.

Roxas squeaked in surprise, yanked out of his reverie without a moment's warning, and nearly spilled hot chocolate all over himself.

"Sorry!"

"What for?"

"For…that."

"What were you doing?"

"...staring."

"Uh-huh...why? At what?"

"At...you." Roxas sipped his cocoa. "You don't...you're not Demyx or Riku's type, you know? They like smaller guys. Ones that are leaner or not as lean as you. Guys who don't tower over them. Softer people. But you said you've done them, and it sounded like you'd done them more tan once, and I was just trying to figure out what it is about you that keeps them coming back in spite of that."

Axel laughed. "Yu were staring at me for that?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what did you come up wit?"

Roxas blushed furiously and tried to hide behind his mug. Axel grinned evilly at him.

"Tell me."

"No."

"You have to tell me."

"No!"

"I'll throw you back out in the rain without your clothes."

Roxas scowled. "I just...realized that you're beautiful. It's not about what 'type' you are...like if you really like horses or cats or something, it's not about their breed. It's about how beautiful they are...or you are. How they move and how they wear their skin and all the little things that make them who or what they are. You're like that...it's not that you're tall or pale or a redhead, it's that you're gorgeous and they're both people who appreciate beauty."

"And you came up with all that just watching me make myself hot chocolate?"

"Yeah."

"In less than five minutes."

Roxas nodded.

"Roxas, babe...there's no way in hell you came up with all that just now."

"What?"

Axel shook his head. "I've seen y-"

His phone rang, and he grabbed for it, cursing under his breath. He talked for a moment, hung up, and stood, walking away from Roxas as his towel slid off.

"I've got to go."

"What? Why?"

"They need me down at the theatre. Some idiot at rehearsals got into something they shouldn't have. You can stick around and wait for me, or wait for the rain to stop or something if you want to. This can't wait."

Roxas watched Axel's bare ass parade across the little apartment to get clothes out of the dresser, then back towards the bathroom. He didn't have much of an ass, but his legs went on for miles and really made up for it...and it wasn't like he was flat, which would have been a crime with hips like his. His ass was simply unremarkable, except for the fact that Roxas wanted to know what it would be like to bite it.

Axel returned from the bathroom and whapped Roxas on top of the head as he passed.

"OW!"

"You're starin' at my ass, squirt. I saw that."

"I was not!"

"You were looking at my ass the way Riku looks at coffee, Rox."

Roxas blushed until his face burned and he wasn't sure how it was possible for so much blood to be concentrated in his face, curling up in a ball on the couch while Axel laughed.

Footsteps on the wood floor. A hand under his chin. Axel tipped his head back so Roxas was forced to look at him.

"I don't mind, you know," he said softly, and lowered his head, kissing Roxas gently. It lasted for a moment at best, and Roxas was left gasping on the couch and trying to figure out what had happened with the remainder of his brain (the rest had apparently vaporized and escaped on the first exhale after the kiss). There had been no tongue, no teeth, just warm, chocolate-scented lips against his, leaving a heat on his skin and an urge to just die on the spot.

"See ya when I get back, if you're still here," Axel chuckled. "Lock up if you decide to leave, and let me know, 'kay? Might stay out a little later if I'm not comin' back to company."

Roxas couldn't answer.

The door closed. It took Roxas a good ten minutes afterwards to collect himself. He fell asleep before Axel returned.


	10. Chapter 10

On the fifteenth of November, Roxas got into more than he'd been expecting. He was off work and Axel was away on some kind of family business, so he was home early that evening. Riku was pacing, occasionally stopping to scribble on a sketchpad for a few minutes before tossing it aside and getting up to pace again. Finally, he prowled across the loft and stood beside Roxas' desk, staring at him until Roxas put his pen down and looked up

"_Yes_?"

"I need a model. Come sit for me."

"_WHAT_?"

"I need to get this piece done, but I just _can't_ get the figure right. I need a model to work off of."

"Can't you just look up a reference online or something?"

"Not for this. And it'd take me _forever_."

"Call Demyx." More than once in recent weeks, Roxas had come home to find Demyx sprawled, arranged, and posed around the apartment, quietly holding still and apparently meditating while Riku sketched furiously. After awhile, Roxas had stopped caring that he usually did this in nothing but boxers or basketball shorts.

"I can't use _Demyx_, he's all wrong for this! The figure needs to be _youthful_!" Riku gestured expansively, slim fingers spreading and circling in the air in an attempt to convey youthfulness. Failing that, he flailed a bit, at least managing to get across the point that it was a very big deal.

"And _I'm _what you're looking for?"

"Come _on_, Roxas, you're practically youth incarnate!"

This did not make Roxas want to perch on a stool so Riku could circle around him and draw him. "That's not comforting."

"I'm completely serious. You have those big eyes, and soft lines to your face, and lots of fluffy hair. Your figure is built on smooth lines, so it looks younger even though it's all muscley. And you're smaller than average, which denotes youth to a lot of people."

"Gee, _thanks_."

"Just do it. Please? This is really important."

Roxas groaned, not wanting to help out, but levered himself out of his chair and shuffled over to Riku's side of the room. "What do I need to do?"

"Take your clothes off and lie on the bed."

"Which one?"

"The one Loz put up."

Two weeks before, Riku's brother had appeared with permission from the landlord and had spent a good portion of the day installing a hanging bed in their living area. It was really quite comfortable, and they tended to use it as a couch, though getting on and off it when they were tired could be a exercise in coordination. Currently it was clear of anything except a handful of throw pillows Riku's other older brother, Yazoo, had donated to make the thing look more comfortable, bright and colorful against the solid black cover over the mattress.

Roxas sighed. "Do I have to be naked?"

"Nah. Put on a pair of tight underwear. Something nice."

"What makes you think I have _nice_ underwear?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Why _would_ I?"

"To wear with nice clothes?"

"What's wrong with regular underwear?"

"_Roxas_, if you wear just _any_ underwear with a nice suit, for example, you will completely _ruin_ the line of your slacks. It's like a man's panty line, and it's _bad_."

Roxas sighed. "I think I have something."

"Good. Go put it on."

Roxas went. What he had turned out to be a pair of red silk bikini underwear that an ex girlfriend had bought for him, part of a set of three that he never, ever wore because silk got hot really fast and he didn't like the soft, slippery feeling of the fabric against his skin. Wearing those and feeling completely naked, he went and lay down on the bed, curling in on himself for coverage.

"I need you on your back," Riku informed him, strolling over. "Oh, _very_ nice, where did you get _those_?"

"They were a gift. Just on my back? Or is there some specific way?"

"Comfortably," Riku amended. "I'd like to see a bit of a curve in your body….at the waist or in the torso…anything will do."

"Just that?"

"I'll move you if I need to. I'd rather the position look natural, and the easiest way to achieve that is if you're in a position that's _comfortable_."

Roxas nodded and rolled onto his back, folding one arm under his head and letting the other trail limply at his side, legs extended and bent slightly, a position he often woke up in on mornings when he wasn't running late. It was easy to pull a pillow closer and fall asleep like that.

"_Perfect._ Just...hold that pose." Riku circled the bed, peering down at Roxas and sketching busily.

"Mmm…might fall asleep like this."

"Go ahead, if it's that comfortable. I don't mind."

Roxas didn't sleep, but he dozed, finding the contrast of the accumulated warmth of the bed and the faintly damp chill of the loft without the heaters running to be interesting and comfortable, assuring him of his position in the world and his current state of being. When e heard Riku retreat to his drawing table, he sat up slowly, yawning.

"Can I move?"

"Huh? Yeah…yah, go ahead."

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

He shuffled over, pulling on a t-shirt as he went, and leaned over Riku's shoulder to inspect the picture. It was done with considerable skill, as were most of Riku's drawings, and Roxas was pleased to see that he'd had a hand in such a nice piece of work before he got to the figure's face.

"Riku…"

"Hmm?"

"That's not me."

"What?"

"That. Isn't. Me."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is. I just drew it straight from you lying on the bed, how could it be anything-"

Roxas stormed across the room, snatched up his phone, and scrolled to an old picture on his way back to Riku's table, shoving it into his face. "That isn't _me_, it's _SORA_."

Riku looked at the picture, one taken more than a year ago, of Sora lying in a pile of fallen leaves, face relaxed into an expression of peaceful contentment. He looked back at the picture.

"How…how can you even _tell_? I wasdrawing _you_, I swear…"

"It's in the eyes," Roxas growled. "And in his mouth. And the way every inch of that sketch just oozes _want_." He put his phone down with a shaking hand. "_Goddamit_, Riku, stop lusting after my brother!"

"I didn't _mean_ to! I haven't even _seen _him since we moved away, I promise!" Riku looked at the sketch again. "I don't know…I mean…it was weird seeing you so calm and relaxed for a change, but I didn't try to draw someone else, Roxas. I just…drew."

"Well you sure as hell didn't draw me." Roxas snatched his phone back up and stormed towards the door. "I'm going out."

"Out where?"

"Just _out_."

An hour later, Roxas found himself staring at the numbered door of Sora's apartment. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, only that he'd come to his senses in the elevator, holding his skateboard under his arm.

Now that he was there, he might as well knock.

Demyx answered, grinned at Roxas, and let him in at once, snatching away his skateboard and drizzle-damp hoodie with a tsking sound of disapproval and bustling off with promises of coffee, calling to Sora as he went.

A moment later, Sora peered down from the balcony overhead.

"Roxas? What are you doing here?"

"I…I don't know." He hadn't been back since the first visit, though Sora had sent him a few hesitant, mostly random text messages. Roxas wasn't sure if it was an attempt to make friends or just Sora deciding it was worth making sure Roxas knew he was still alive.

"You don't _know_? Don't you live halfway across town? How did you get here? The last bus was over an hour ago."

Roxas looked down at his empty hands. "I think I rode my board over…"

"You _think_?" Sora hurried down the stairs and rushed to Roxas' side. "Are you alright? Did something happen? Here, c'mere, sit down. God, Roxas, you're _freezing_…Demyx? Are you making-"

"Coffee," Demyx interrupted. "Yes. Hot. You fuss, I'll brew."

"_Thank you_." Sora pushed Roxas down onto a couch and knelt beside him, peering worriedly into his face. "What happened?"

"Riku…" Roxas swallowed. "It's nothing."

"Riku? Riku Crescent? You're friends with him?"

"We live together."

"You _what_?"

"We live together…we share that loft…and live in opposite corners to stay out of each other's space. It's…it's okay. Not bad, anyway."

"I…wow, I didn't know he lived in town." Sora shook his head. "What happened? What did he do?"

"He drew…he drew you. When he was supposed to draw me."

Sora blinked. "What?"

"He's an artist…I modeled for him…but he drew you." Roxas looked at Sora, feeling strange and confused and a little angry and sick. "He _wants_ you. He has for along time but I thought he'd _stopped_, but I saw that picture and it wasn't me…it was you…and I don't want to think about what was going trough his head when he drew it."

"Riku wants me? Like…for sex?"

"He's wanted you since we were kids and didn't know what sex meant," Roxas managed, voice getting throaty and thick with suppressed emotion. He wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. "Which I can't stand, but I kind of…forgot, but when I saw the sketch…that was _not_ me, and it just…you could feel everything that went into it, and it didn't even have anything to do with me, and... and…and I left, I just…I left and now I'm here, and…"

Demyx appeared at his elbow, pushing a steaming mug of coffee into his hands. It was creamy with milk and smelled a little like vanilla.

"Drink up, Rox. You're gonna be okay."

Shaking, Roxas sipped at the coffee. It was sweet and smooth and hot, the heat sinking into his body like a blessedly warm blanket. He groaned and melted against the back of the couch.

"I should talk to Riku," Sora said quietly. "It's been…it's been years. I'm surprised he remembered me."

"Surprised? You were his best friend. Sometimes I think you were the only best friend he's ever had…I don't see him with anyone else who seems that close." Roxas too a few more big swallows of coffee, shivering as the heat sank in and reminded him how cold other parts of his body were.

"He was so pretty. And popular. I assumed he'd just…get new friends."

"Riku doesn't make friends very easily," Demyx said quietly, handing another cp of coffee to Sora. "He's really quiet, and keeps to himself. People who get close to him are…well, they're really, _really_ rare, and he loves 'em to death. He said something, once, about his family scaring off friends when he was a kid, so now he's afraid to let 'em in because they'll meet his brothers and leave, like the others have."

Sora's eyes widened. "I _need_ to see him now," he whispered. "Poor guy…"

"No," Roxas said firmly.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"You can't see him."

"Why not?"

Roxas' grip tightened on his coffee. "Because he wants to get in your pants and I'm the older brother and 'm supposed to _protect _you from things like that!" He bit his lip. "And because you don't like gay guys, and he's…he's not gay, but he likes men, and you…"

"Who said I don't like gay guys? Demyx is gay, and so is Xigbar."

"Wha?"

"Yep," Demyx chuckled. "As a Mardi Gras parade float."

"But-"

"Roxas…I _like_ boys."

Roxas didn't remember how he got home.

Riku pounced on him when he walked in, peeling his considerably wetter sweater right off and hauling him away from the door. "What happened? Where did you go? What were you _thinking_? Are you aright?"

He pushed Roxas onto the hanging bed and hurried away. Roxas heard the electric kettle bubble to a halt and beep quietly, the sound of a spoon tinging against ceramic, and a heavy mug of hot chocolate was pushed into his hands, the sweet steam tempered with an obvious shot of rum.

"Riku-"

"I'm _sorry_ okay? I wasn't thinking about Sora, I was just thinking about _concepts_, and if it turned into Sora, then I didn't mean for it to. Please don't run out like that again."

Roxas had a few long, hot swallows of his coca before he spoke again.

"Did I scare you?"

"A couple of years ago, Kadaj and Seph had a really big fight…Kadaj ran out of the house in the middle of a storm…we had to call the police to help search and he had to spend two night in the hospital before he could come home…so yes, Roxas, you scared me. It was Kadaj all over again and I didn't know what to do, then or now." Riku swallowed and smoothed Roxas' hair down with a shaking hand. "I'm sorry."

Cowed by the little piece of Riku's past, Roxas ducked his head. "Sorry. I…I went to Sora's place."

"You know where he lives?"

"Cloud had be deliver some stuff he left awhile back. I remembered the address, I guess. I'm not sure how I got there, or how I got back." Roxas sighed. "I told him about what happened. He wants to see you."

"He _what_?"

"He wants to see you. I told him no, but…" Roxas sipped at his cocoa. "It's really not my choice to make and I need to stop pretending that it is. I mean…he's doing better than I am right now, so obviously I've got no business making any choices for him or giving him advice."

The words were bitter in his mouth, making him feel guilty and useless, but they kept on slipping out. He blamed the rum.

"He is? How is he doing better?"

"He lives in this posh apartment with a couple of older guys- Demyx is one of them- and coaches soccer and he's paying less for rent than we are and he's planning on doing intramural soccer in the spring and he looks _happy."_

"So? You're about the same."

Roxas opened his mouth to disagree, but Riku pushed the cocoa back at him.

"No arguing. This loft isn't so bad. It's not perfect, but the location makes up for it and we can always put on an extra sweater when it gets colder. You've got a full-time job that pays amazingly, rewards you for effort, doesn't penalize you for getting tips, and keeps you in shape and destressed. You're taking one of the hardest photography classes to get into with the most sought after professor in the department, and you're _rocking_ it. You spend two of three evenings a week with a very hot man who actually seems to _like_ you, which doesn't happen often, and you get to see behind the scenes at a nationally acclaimed theatre. Who cares about a posh apartment when you've got all of _that_? I would _kill_ for half the success you're having, Roxas!"

Riku crawled up to sit on the bed beside Roxas. "Or you can compare yourself to me. I live in the same place. I'm constantly trying to crawl out from under my family's shadow. I make most of my money whoring myself out to artists I can't stand and making art I don't like because it's the only way I can pay my bills. My brothers won't leave me alone and won't stop trying to adjust my life to make it fit their ideas of suitability. I'm single, I don't want to _be_ single, and the only person I want to spend romantic time with hasn't spoken to me in years and doesn't like men. So there. You're doing great."

"Sora likes guys," Roxas mumbled.

"So you just need to think positive and…what?"

"Sora likes guys," Roxas said again. "He told me. I'll…give you his number."

"You'd do that?"

"At least if he's seeing _you_ I know where to find you when I need to kick your ass for hurting him. 'S easier. I don't have time to run all over town looking for just anyone."

Riku laughed at that, and hugged Roxas tightly, thanking him in a shaking voice. Roxas just sighed and let him do it.


	11. Chapter 11

The Christmas show, _Seussical the Musical_, opened on the first day of December. Roxas attended in full Seuss-inspired costume, courtesy of Marluxia, one of Axel's friends from the costume department, and took pictures of everything from the front of the house, a place he rarely spent any time at all. The whirl of color and light and music and people was dizzying and incredible from the point of view of someone who stayed hidden away in the dark, quieter places backstage. The following night, he went backstage with Axel, getting shots of Whos and elephants and wockets and all sorts of nonsense milling around and waiting for their cues, watched musicians rush out back for a drink or a smoke at intermission, watched the tech's underlings rush too and fro with little bits and bobs the head techs needed.

On the third night, he stayed home, assembling the semester's work into a presentation he had to turn in at the end of the week.

The end of the week came. Roxas put on nice clothes- Riku had taken him looking for them, as nothing in his closet matched anything Riku thought was 'nice'- and brushed his hair and caught the bus to class, not wanting to walk in the thick blanket of snow that had fallen overnight.

His was the second presentation. Nervous, Roxas handed his flash drive over and stepped up to the podium, taking the remote when Dr. Koizumi handed it over.

"I selected the Cappellan Star Theatre," he began. "I didn't know a thing about theatre or the building, so I walked in the wrong door and got myself into trouble with one of the lead technicians before I could even start my assignment."

He flipped from a stock photo of the theater's main doors to one he'd taken of Axel, a few weeks after their meeting, straddling a stool and flipping the camera off with both hands, tongue stuck out as far as it would go.

"We agreed that I'd follow him around so I'd stay out of trouble. Backstage is sacred, to serious actors and to the technicians. There are a lot of things you don't do, places you can't go, and superstitions you have to keep up with, so I had the potential to get into a lot of trouble with where I'd wandered into. This…this started as another photo essay about a building that's been on campus for decades and has had more projects and reports done on it than I really care to count. I could stand here and tell you about performances and architecture and all of that…but I don't think it matters."

He flipped to a pair of pictures, the first one taken late at night, right before he and Axel left. A lamp with no shade stood in the middle of the stage, bare bulb glowing in the dark, everything outside the puddle of light no more than shadows and mystery. In the second, Axel stood between Roxas and the light, body surrounded by a softly glowing aura, the tips of his hair picked out in fiery red, earrings and buckles and leather boots shining with the light. His eyes were closed, arms spread, and he looked completely at peace.

"What really matters is the heart and actions of the people _inside_ the theatre. Especially the technicians and artists who make the magic happen behind the scenes. Without them, there would be people in street clothes standing in the middle of a stage under naked lights, saying their lines and moving together without set or costume or music. _With_ them, you get a production that makes Cappellan and every other theatre in the world what it is."

Roxas continued for a solid twenty minutes, discussing the productions he'd seen, the people he'd met, and the work he'd participated in. He talked about superstition, and the varied backgrounds of the people he had met. There were lots more pictures, many of them featuring Axel, and many of them drawing soft sounds from his classmates. Dr. Koizumi said nothing throughout the entire presentation.

At the end, Roxas left the screen filled with one last shot. His favorite, taken back in October before the madness around Halloween. Axel leaned in from the right, pulling back a heavy curtain that hung against a plain wall. Roxas had focused on the thing Axel was showing him, so the redhead was a study in soft blurs and bright green eyes. Down where the wall met the floor, in the corner the curtain had been blocking off, three tiny kittens watched the camera from inside a coil of rope, with a sleek orange adult cat sitting behind them, staring unblinkingly into the camera.

Roxas headed back to his seat, finding that his hands were shaking, and dropped into it right before he was sure his legs were going to give out.

"Thank you, Roxas." Dr. Koizumi took the podium, leaving Axel's kittens on the screen behind him. "I have been giving this assignment for thirteen years, and you are the first student to care about more than the goings at the front of the house and on the stage. _This_ is why I give this assignment. _This _is what I want my students to understand. Thank you for your work."

After class, Roxas was pulled aside and had to linger, alone, in the classroom while his classmates filed out, rushing to other classes. Dr. Koizumi leaned against the podium, watching him until they were alone.

"Have you done any shows with your work, Roxas?" he asked quietly.

"Um…no…I haven't. None of my work has been considered good enough…I submitted for a few shows at my last school, but nothing made it."

"Was it work like this?"

"Most of it. The content of this essay was new to me, but this is how I take photos all the time, unless I'm being paid to do something different."

Dr. Koizumi's eyebrows went up. "You work as a paid photographer?"

"Just for little stuff, mostly. Birthday parties…I've gotten dragged along on a couple of bachelorette parties, and family things. And a couple of religious ceremonies. I'm supposed to do a wedding this spring. It's not enough to pay rent or anything, but the experience is good. Um…should I not be?"

"You should. I'm just not used to finding my students having both skill and sense. Usually it's one of the other, and that is unfortunate." He took a sheet of paper from his briefcase and handed it to Roxas. "I coordinate with the university council to determine what goes into the gallery in the student union. We were looking for photographers to showcase this spring- this past semester has seen sketch artists, painting, carving, and sculpture, so it's high time we did photography again. However, none of the work submitted recently has been of the content we want. It's broad and busy. We want something intimate and thoughtful. Something that shows the world the way photographers see it- in pieces, with only the perfect part in focus. This project of yours shows a lot of what we want. Are you interested?"

"You want _me_?"

"I do. And I think, if I can show this assignment to the council, that they will want you as well. What do you say? You'd need to produce some more work before the show…other subjects and locales, even a series if you feel like doing one…but nothing too complicated. I don't want it to detract from your class work. Would you like to submit your work?"

Roxas just gaped at him for a moment. The university had two galleries. One was attached to the main art building, and had rotating shows that varied between student work and acclaimed artists. The gallery in the student union, however, was where visitors went. With the exception of the occasional historical show, it contained only student work. On rare occasions, an entire show might focus around a graduate student. Thousands of people visited it every semester and many local buyers kept a close watch on the pieces that were displayed, looking for new talent to snap up or draw to their personal galleries around town. Getting a single piece, let alone an entire collection, into the student union gallery was a major event.

"I….I would, sir," he whispered. "I would be honored. And…I think I have something in progress that I could submit with the theatre work."

"Excellent. If you don't mind, I'll take a selection of pieces from your essay and present them to the council, and you should hear back from me before the end of the month."

"Thank you, sir."

"Than _you_, Roxas. Now shoo- I'm sure you have somewhere to be."

Roxas didn't, but he left the building with purpose, jogging across campus to the theatre. His meetings with Axel were over now, since the assignment was finished, but he knew Axel's hours like he knew his own, and the redhead was supposed to be in the workshop with a repair project right then.

Sure enough, he was, straddling his stool like he did in so many of the pictures Roxas had taken, bent low over a massive light fixture that was half taken apart, pieces spilled across the worn wooden surface, long fingers spread over gleaming, slightly scuffed metal. He looked up when Roxas burst in.

"I thought your assignment was finished."

"It _is_!"

Roxas pounced on Axel, hugging him tightly around the middle and not caring when he heard a few small parts of the light rattle across the tabletop. He was too busy hugging, and turning to look at Axel's face, and pressing his lips to thin, dry, familiar ones, kissing Axel with abandon, trying as hard as he could to tell him everything he wanted to say in a single breath.

When he had to break to breathe, Axel leaned back, lips darkening from the pressure of Roxas' and from the blush spreading across his face in a wash of pink.

"The _hell_ has gotten into you?"

Roxas kissed him again. He told Axel everything between kisses, words spilling out with panting breaths and amazed squeaks, fingers twining in Axel's hair and tightening around one of the redhead's suspenders, needing something to anchor himself with.

When the story was out, Roxas fell back, panting, eyes shining, tingling and shaking with nerves, and let Axel have his space.

"And all this lead you to want to _kiss_ me?" Axel managed after a moment. His lips were properly swollen and dark by now, and he touched them lightly.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Roxas admitted.

"So this whole show in the gallery thing convinced you that _now_ was a good time?"

"I tried something new with that assignment," Roxas said softly. "And it worked. So I wanted to try something new with you, too…maybe it will work just like the assignment did. If…if you want to help me make it work, anyway."

Axel grinned and scooped Roxas up, bundling him into his lap and kissing him breathless. _Being_ kissed by Axel was a lot more than just kissing him…it was like being consumed, and Roxas decided he liked it.


	12. Chapter 12

In late March, after Spring Break had come and gone, a new show appeared in the student union gallery. Titled 'Scattershot', it featured the work of eight photographers, all of them focusing on the world around them and the life in it.

Roxas' work was in the main room, taking up one third of it directly to the left of the front doors. In addition to choice selections from his theatre piece, he had hung a collection of photos from his days living with Riku, shots of an artist's hands flying across a clean sheet of paper and forming clay into a sleek dragon figurine, moments of laughter when Riku's hair went everywhere and moments of peace when Riku stretched out on the hanging bed and napped, hands folded against his chest. Demyx was there, meditating on the floor, leaning over the coffee shop counter with a flower behind his ear and a crown of leaves on his head, playing his guitar while sitting cross-legged on the wall at the park across the street. Sora, chasing a soccer ball across a field of winter grass, legs almost a blur.

And at the end of his section, a series of small photos, each one with only a piece of the idea, with a small, simple title over the grouping.

'Love through a Lens'

There was a shot of Axel's lips, one corner curled up in a confident smirk. His fingers, splayed over the smooth skin of Roxas' stomach, heavy with rings. Long, long legs hanging over the edge of the bed, daintily crossed at the ankles. Roxas' hand over Axel's heart, with Axel's fingers sneaking in from the corner to touch Roxas' wrist. There was a shirt and belt lying crumpled over the toes of a pair of massive combat boots, and elsewhere, two leather wrist cuffs holding a jumble of rings and earrings captive in their curves. At the center of the collection, Roxas lay on his back, tucked into the curve of Axel's body, holding one arm up to keep the camera overhead. Axel was asleep, face relaxed into almost angelic calm, and Roxas grinned, satisfied with all that was his.

The collection sold on opening night. Most of Roxas' work, like much of the work from the rest of the show, was sold by the end of the month. Roxas could afford to move out of the loft.

He decided he didn't want to.


End file.
